Harley Quinn: Crazy for you (The sorta memoir)
by DrLecterQuinn
Summary: The story of how Harleen Quinzell went from the Joker's girlfriend, to his EX, to his partner and finally his killer...whale enthusiast. Follow her along as she personally accounts some of the most memorable moments in the twisted life of a a clinically insane, delightfully wicked, absolutely gorgeous, homicidal maniac.


Harley Quinn: I'm Crazy for You

(The _sorta _memoir of a clinically insane, delightfully wicked, absolutely gorgeous, homicidal maniac)

_The dim light swung precariously over the cold, steel walls. The sound of silence slipped from the narrow hallways, as the dull sound of stilettos clacked against the surface of the floor. Her short, shallow breaths rounded the corner before she did, her blonde hair pulled tightly in a bun on the back of her head. She nervously tapped a pencil against the clipboard and stopped at a door at the end of the hall. She took a single deep breath and pressed the intercom._

"_Dr. Harleen Quinzell for scheduled session with Patient 00679." _

_A sound of rustling papers responded from the other end. _

"_You're clear for entrance, Dr. Q." _

_She pushed the door open and sat down in front of a Plexi-glass partition. She piled her papers on the corner of her table. She waited for the door on the other side of the room to open; she felt a surge of anxiety and excitement as she waited. Sure, he was intimidating, but his charm was undeniable. Harleen leaned forward in her chair as a stream of light crossed the dark stone walls of the interview room. She couldn't help but wish that the glass separating her and her patient would slip away, leaving nothing but the mutual fascination between them. _

_ Harleen watched as a burly guard pushed him through the open door. His toxic green hair matted against his stained white face. Sweat dripped down his scarred, ruby lips. _

"_Here he is Doc." _

"_Thanks, Mike. I'll take it from here."_

_The guard saluted Harleen and walked out without a glance at the man seated in the chair. _

"_Harley, Harley, Harley…." He smiled at her, and she felt the flutter of the butterflies in her stomach. She attempted to compose herself under her breath._

"_Be professional, Harl. Be professional." _

"_Harley Quinzell, sounds a little like Harlequin, eh?" _

"_Mr. Joker, we don't have long. We really…" _

"_Mr. J"_

"_Excuse me?" A smile slipped slowly onto her face._

"_Call me Mr. J." _

"_Uh, Mr. J….we don't have long, so we really need to get through this session. Last week, we were discussing your flawed relationship with Batman."_

"_I don't want to talk about him, not anymore." _

"_Ok, what would you like to talk about?"  
"You."  
"I'm running this session, this is about you."_

"_Is this what you wanted to do?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Really?"_

"_Joker…"  
"I've told you to call me Mr. J" _

"_Mr. J, I really don't want to talk about myself."  
"Sure you do, here…if you don't talk, neither will I."_

"_Fine, I grew up in Metropolis. I came to Gotham to pursue a career in criminal psychology."_

"_Why?"_

"_It's just always fascinated me."_

"_Not just always, something was the catalyst."_

"_Your turn."  
"You haven't fully answered the question."_

"_Damn, fine. My father was a low-level con who got our family on the wrong side of Superman. He ended up in Blackgate, and my mother had to scrimp and save. I vowed to understand why he did the things he did. Along the way, I became fascinated by the cultural obsession with the criminals in Gotham, and thought I might have made a quick buck on a tell-all book."_

"_How deliciously sneaky."_

"_With all due respect, I don't have time for some Hannibal Lecter, Quid Pro Quo session with you." _

"_But you were doing so well."_

"_Really?"  
"You're not a white coat, Harley."  
"Dr. Quinzell."_

"_Harley?"  
"Yes, Mr. J?" _

"_Shut up, and listen." _

_She looked back at him sheepishly._

"_Good girl, now as I was saying, this isn't you. I see you more like Hannibal, rather than Starling. You're a bad girl, Harley Q. What if I told you I was able to free the Sandy from the Sandra Dee, baby? I want you to do something for me. Take that awful bun down."_

"_I'm not sure."_

"_Oh, poor baby. Afraid of what the neighbors will say?"_

_She smiled at him and pulled the pin from her hair. The golden locks fell like a luscious, gilded waterfall. She playfully flipped her hair around and smiled at the Joker._

"_There she is, and she's truly marvelous."_

"_Anything else?"_

"_Unbutton your blouse."_

_She blushed and looked around her, before slowly, seductively unbuttoning her shimmery, crimson blouse. The paleness of her curvy, creamy, clear bosom became clear as her hand slid further down her torso. Her lacey, slinky black brassiere peeked through the low-cut opening. _

"_Stop."_

_She raised an eyebrow, and pulled her hands slowly away from her chest._

"_Mr. J?" She asked quizzically, almost hurt. _

"_One more thing, this one will truly free the beast within."_

"_Anything you say, Mr. J" _

"_Take that pen, the red one."_

_She picked up the writing utensil._

"_Now, slowly slide the felt across your lips."_

_Harleen uncapped the pen and did as she was instructed. _

"_Hello, Harley."_

_She looked up at the partition, a darkly sexy woman looked back at her in the faint reflection. Joker smiled at her and leaned back in his chair. _

"_Anything else?"  
"Well, there could be one more thing."_

_Harley's mind was flooded with forceful, unacceptable thoughts._

"_Come…"_

_Harley moved in her chair, leaned toward the glass. Mr. J did the same. Their lips were almost touching through the glass._

"_Away with me…" _

_Harley shot back from the glass, and shifted uncomfortably away from him. _

"_You mean, help you escape?"  
"Baby, haven't you figured it out yet? We're both caged in this hellhole…the only way for us to be together, is to get out of here." _

"_I don't know; it's risky." _

"_Of course it is, sexual freedom always is." _

"_How are we going to do it?"_

"_That, my dear is entirely up to that fabulous little noggin of yours." _

"_Ok…"  
_

Jesus, what I wouldn't give to change that night. I'd kill for the chance to go back and slap that bitch across the face, before she made the biggest mistake of her life… then again, nowadays I'd kill someone for a cheeseburger. All lies; just one big game. Every line that snake ever hissed was dripping with dishonesty. God smite me, if he's ever done a goddamn, selfless thing in his entire excuse for a life. I gave him my heart, and he gave me a life of crime in return. How is a girl supposed to live her life, if she's constantly under the glow of the spotlight, well…the police spotlight anyway? In one ill-fated decision, Harleen Quinzell went the way of Baby Jane, and Harley Quinn took center stage. Our escape is spoken of in hushed whispers; I personally took the lives of seven guards and two doctors that night. Nine is a mere drop in the bucket in comparison to my current, overwhelming body count. Joker gave me my own costume, a new name and an oversized hammer. It all began to become clear as we left Arkham that I was leaving everything behind, and getting nothing in return.

We spent the next few nights running from the police, and the Bat. Joker offered me up as bait for both, and I went along with it. I still can't believe I had been so stupid. I wanted the love to be reciprocated, or for him to at least meet me half way…on both fronts I was disappointed. We settled in an abandoned love tunnel with some of his stooges, and attempted to rebuild his empire. I was reduced to June Cleaver, June Cleaver in a freaking skintight jester outfit. At least she had kids, what did I have? A man-child with an affinity for grease paint, and his drunk, violent frat friends… ain't that just every girl's dream? I thought shacking up with an infamous, world-renowned criminal emperor might have given me the opportunity to end up in some pretty nice digs. Not a dug out latrine, and being intimate in a hollowed out swan boat. I had plans; I was a 25 year old doctor at a prestigious mental health institution. I worked my ass off every day, slept my way to the top and never took no for an answer. I did everything an ambitious, career oriented woman should, and ended up bobbing and weaving, scrimping and saving…shooting and stabbing just to survive the night. Don't even get me started on those cheap shoes, he's wearing three hundred dollar spats, and I'm rocking a pair of discount felt, spike heeled elf shoes. I felt like the North Pole hooker, I only wish! If that were the case my man would consistently have a job. You'd think after subjecting me to Jed Clampet's paradise, he might show me a little affection or appreciation. No, I can't count the times that I had to duck to avoid a fresh stream of hydrochloric acid. Not to mention, his idea of whispered sweet nothings, was asking me if I wanted to know how he got those damn scars. I swear, I wanted to give him a few more…some that would match my own. I don't care what _Fight Club_ taught me, chemical burns do not build character…they hurt like a motherfucker! One night I fell hard for one of his ploys. He came home with a pair of crystal glasses, some Dom Perignon and scented candles. We had a fabulously romantic evening, my head was spinning and I slipped into sheer ecstasy. Psychoactive drugs have that effect on a girl. Long story short, I woke up attached to a shrewdly built rocket, Joker was sitting in a director style chair, with his finger on a detonator. He made some weak speech about not wanting to fall in love and then he fired my ass… literally, he set my ass on fire and detonated the rocket. I was soaring over Gotham like a frantic, majestic, royally pissed off ex-girlfriend. I slid my foot out of my shoe and used the cracked heel to slice through the tape. I saw a pile of nice, soft leaves and cut myself loose. I prayed to whoever would listen that I'd land on that, and not a nice, soft piece of concrete. Somebody answered those prayers and I hit one of the over-sized leaves with ease. Of course, all those people I'd killed tended to not keep me in God's good graces, and karma caught up with my unlucky butt. As I slid down the leaf, I realized a little too late, that giant plants are never a good thing to see in Gotham City.

Poison Ivy and I didn't have an exceptionally good relationship. During my employment at Arkham, I assisted in stopping a poorly planned escape attempt. Jeremiah Arkham was so pleased that he insisted I take over her therapy. Good ole' Jerry, not a brain inside that pretty little head. A fact, it was fairly clear that she had not forgotten. Vines yanked and pulled me closer to a giant, hungry carnivorous plant. Honestly, at that point I didn't feel like fighting anymore. Mr. J had seen to it that my spirit be thoroughly and completely broken. Ivy took notice of my lack of fight and called off her guard carrot. She took me in and forced me to spill the details of my post Arkham life, she was amused. I don't know if it was my weakness, or the fact that I was a vindictive bitch, but Ivy took a surprising liking to me. I mean, I'd heard she didn't like men, but I didn't realize she _liked_ women. Although, there were signs…all the flower children I knew in college, batted for the softball team. Honestly, at that point, I'd had enough of the male form, but it'd take more than a little liquid courage to get me to go anywhere near that bush. Huh, I made a pun…how about that? Anyway, Ivy taught me some serious female empowerment, independent woman, Indigo Girls stuff and got me back on my wobbly feet. She gave me some magic potion that turned me into Mighty Mouse; suddenly I could jump around like a cricket on cocaine, and lift twice my body mass. Who knew a delicate flower like me could ever lift 190 lbs? No, eh…it was worth a shot. For what it's worth, Red (my pet name for Ivy) really did help me up from the dirt. If it hadn't been for her, who knows? Well, I guess I'd have blown up into a million, little extra crispy Harley pieces with that missile, so I guess it's a really good thing I fell into her demon garden. No matter how good things with Ivy were, I really wanted to get back at that pasty-faced creep! Of course, for Ivy hearing that just made her bloom in all the right places. She led your dear little Harley Quinn down the path to the dark side; seriously she claimed to be my father and everything. No, but for real she turned me into one badass little psychopath, a girl after Mr.J's own heart…with a hunting knife. I was ready to go out on my own, and get me a hot slice of vengeance…and maybe some apple pie. I want pie now. I'm going to get a slice of pie…be back in a second. Talk amongst yourselves.

Ok, I'm back. First I knew I needed a little bit of help, a little homicide insurance. Not that I had much hope that ole' pointy ears would help out a girl like me, but hey…a lot can be said for a man who comes when called. He may throw me in Arkham every chance he gets, and I might be one his least favorite chicks, but my heart can go all a flutter when I'm trading punches with Batsy. That boy's muscles have muscles, and hey what girl doesn't like a few gadgets under her belt every now and then? Not that my outfit leaves much room for a belt, but you get my point.

I flashed the bright light, and as they always do, the bat flocked quickly. He wasn't all to pleased to see yours truly, but then again who is? Let's face it, if I surprise you on a rooftop in the middle of the night, you probably aren't getting off that building alive. For once, the world's greatest detective assumed incorrectly. I just wanted to chat a little, and you know maybe get him on a wild clown chase. I told Brucey, I mean Batsy…pretend like I didn't say that. Ok, Bruce Vilanche is Batman, now you know. You're not supposed to know my big, Hitchcockian twist ending yet. Stupid Harley, always spoiling the surprise! Don't worry, I didn't dress like his mother and slice him up in a shower…although, that would be a different way to go. Sorry, back to the story.

I convinced Batsy that Mr. J was going to flood Gotham's waterworks with happy gas, and that there was no way to stop him if he succeeded. He tried to pretend like he didn't believe me, but a bad girl like _moi_ knows how to push the right buttons. I waited until he was gone, and went for my Joker. I knew it wouldn't be long before I had a bat in my belfry, and he didn't disappoint. Eww! No, not that! He's a sexy bat, but I have my standards…I meant he tailed me, no, wait, that sounds dirty too. He followed me to the Joker's hideout, and I knew he was there the whole time…ok, now that was completely, squeaky clean.

Bats made his way into the belly of the smiling beast, and I came in behind him. I waited until he took out the boys, and I made my move. I took one of the gang's crowbars, and laid into Mr. Funny Man. He didn't see me coming, I was like a red and black, cute-as-hell, ninja. I gave him a few more whacks with my iron beauty. Cough Jason Todd cough, anyone? Come on, Bats got the irony, and he can't even get his Bat boxers on without the Boy Wonder's help. Let me clear it up for you, he beat the sidekick with a crowbar, now his sidekick is doing the same to him. Sheesh, some Fanboys you are! Let's take a second to think about that word, I hate when people call me the Joker's sidekick, first of all at best I was his side-whackyourasswithahammertillyourbrainsspillout yourrectum, but that's not really the point. I was his doctor, then I was his girlfriend, then I was his EX-girlfriend, then I was his partner…then I was his killer. Shit! Harley, shut up, they're going to stop reading if you keep giving the ending away. Uh, I was his Killer Whale enthusiast. Yup, so the ending is Batman is revealed to be Bruce Vilanche and, I get a lucrative job at SeaWorld. Yea, that was a pretty good cover, don't you think? I mean, that makes you want to keep reading so you can see how we get there right? Anyway, my point is I was never his sidekick, doesn't anyone remember when I went off on my own? I did better than Calendar Man during Leap Year. By that, I mean I had one day of success, and a whole lot of sitting around praying no one figured out who I was. That particular chapter of my life will not be addressed again in this "sorta" memoir. But, hey…I kicked Big Barda's big butt, out-riddled the Riddler, and double-crossed Two-Face. No, I said I wasn't going to talk about that, just like Selina won't talk about the time she fought an invincible Sharon Stone…those stories just don't paint us in a very good light. But, that was pretty badass, wasn't it? Not Kitty taking down a cracked Sharon, my parade of ass kickery, it made me look like a real super bitch.

I'm getting off track again, aren't I? Sometimes my head gets a little fuzzy, but hell who said crazy chicks were boring? Any who, we now return you to the scene of our heroine beating the shit out of her ex, already in progress. He screamed and cried, then he tried to shoot me, ain't he just a doll? Bloodied and broken he crawled out of the room, by this point Batsy realized he'd been duped, he was less than pleased. He wasn't shy about showing your sweet, endearing Miss Harley just how displeased he was. He gave me such a beating, that even Christian Grey would have thought it was a bit much. I used my brand, spanking new Juju powers and returned ole' Batty head the favor. I flipped, kicked and slapped my way back to Mr. J. He wasn't getting away that easily, Little Miss Quinn was out for blood, and what Harley wants, Harley gets.

Joker crawled a scaffolding to get away from his little love muffin, well, his little love muffin and her loaded RPG. I might have snatched a few goodies from his stash, my favorite being the rocket propelled missiles, felt like there was some poetry to that particular brand of injustice. I chased him up to the top, aimed my new toy and fired. I heard a deafening explosion and opened my eyes, Joker was looking down at me, head still attached unfortunately. He wasn't too happy with my newfound confidence; he's what I would have used to refer to as an enabler of my self-destructive behavior, now I just call him a dick. See how much I've changed? Either way, she who has the rocket launcher, makes the rules. You'd be amazed how much confidence you have, when you have a tube of flaming death perched on your shoulder. Some criminals have a shoulder parrot; I choose to rock an RPG. It's just a matter of preferential opinion.

I climbed up the scaffolding with the weapon on my back and reached the top. I swung the weapon at his pointy, white rat-face; I heard the sound of the metal slam against his cheekbones. He looked up at me, blood slowly dripping from his left eye

"Harley…come here baby!" What can I say? Sometimes I love the guy, God help me, I really do. I know what you're thinking, how can she be do damn wishy-washy, and non-committal. Please, I'm the most committed woman in Gotham; really, I've been to Arkham more than any other woman in town, a fact that I hold in high esteem. Sure, I may be a certified nutso wanted in twelve states, and hopelessly devoted to a psychopathic clown, but I know what I want in life. And, if I could have just changed the Joker, maybe I could have changed how this story ends, but as you're reading this, you know that nothing could be changed.

It was the oldest story in the book, I fell for him all over again. Together we went on a town-wide, murderous crime spree…and it was one of the best times of my life. Killing a man is so much more fun with the man you love, not that it's a chore by yourself, but it's better with a friend. The only thing more intimate than sex is murder. You're never closer to anyone than you are to your victim and accomplice. Watching the life leave their eyes, sharing their last moments with you, and knowing that your face is the last they'll ever see….ooh, it gives me chills just talking about it. Mr. J knew how to show a girl the time of her life, we'd forgiven each other for trying to blow one another up, and we'd settled on our new life together. Now, he knew that if he hit me too much, he just might wake up to a splitting headache. And, by that I mean my sledgehammer splitting his head wide open. No, we understood each other's limits and strength, and respected both as boundaries never to cross. He proved to me that he'd "changed" while we were knocking over a jewelry store in Old Gotham that had recently been hit by Catwoman, and we needed to strike while the iron was hot. Of course, both of us underestimated Ms. Kitty and her psychosis. She had made one of her trademark leaf turns, and was now bosom buddies with the Bat. There are very few people that I dislike more than Selina Kyle; one day she's your roommate, the next she's selling you to the highest bidding dope in a cape. She likes to pretend she's not crazy, putting aside the skintight fetish suit, but she has more personalities than a daytime talk show. In my clinical opinion, she is one psychotic kitty cat. The Bat disagrees; he believes that her rehabilitation can be done in the Batcave. Quite frankly, I believe most of her rehab happens inside her Catcave, but that's just me. Either way, I've fought alongside her, about as many times as against her, this night was no different. Mr. J and I came in like clowns out of hell; we knocked over the pretty, shiny things, only to be interrupted by the cat lady. She made some half-hearted hero speech, then, she laid her first punch. Mr. J trusted me enough to handle her by myself, and let me at her. Kitty took a nice big hit to the head from my hammer, and I shot a few shots of Joker venom in her, she started laughing and retreated back to the Bat. Mr. J and I got out of there quick; we didn't really want to be there when the Bat got word that we messed with his girlfriend. We took what we could and bolted. Outside, amongst the flashing security lights, we shared an intimate moment. I felt chills all down my vinyl clad body. He loved me, he really did. Of course, he loved me just enough to slide handcuffs around my wrists before leaving me. I leaned against the light post, and tried to free myself, but he had attached me to the cold metal. It wasn't long before Batman came and knocked me around a bit, before dragging my sorry ass back to Arkham. I couldn't be too upset, I knew the Joker was a loose wire, but now I couldn't help but see him as a rabid dog that needed to be put down, and I was going to do it. I had a few people in my corner that were ready to pour a bucket or two of gasoline on the Wicked Dick of West Gotham. But, I'd bide my time, I'd stick out my sentence with poise and be as well mannered as Gotham University taught me to be. Of course, the best memory I have of GU is offing my loser boyfriend with a like-minded professor. What, you think I was EVER a good girl? Nopes, bad to the bone, baby. Bad to the bone.

My stay at Arkham was cut short, after a very special visit from Red. She wasted no time in giving me some magic bean that would get me out quickly. That night, I used it to smash open the wall of my cell and I slipped out of the building. She was waiting for me and took me back to her lair. It was there that I told her of my final plan to rid Gotham of the Bat, the Cat and the very ugly. She was overjoyed, and very willing to help. We mapped it all out, we'd kill the Bat together, the cat was hers and of course, Mr. J was mine. Ivy and I hid out in Axis chemicals, she'd tipped off the GCPD that the Joker, Red, Scarecrow and yours truly were plotting something big. I knew with that many baddies that the Bat couldn't leave his kitty at home, and he didn't disappoint. I told Mr. J that I had a special, one-night surprise for him, so he showed up wearing his Sunday best. If I wasn't filled with murderous rage, I might have acknowledged how dapper he looked. But, as it were, I was filled with murderous rage, and he was a sitting duck. I slithered like a snake in the grass behind him; I crept up to his neck and pumped him full of my own Harley toxin. It took a moment to take effect, but once it kicked in, Mr. J was out for the count. I dragged his unconscious body into the center of the plant and tied him up to a gurney. I hooked him up to my concoction and relaxed for a moment. I heard Ivy jumpstarting her part, and the Cat failing to make a stand, it wasn't long before an unconscious Selina was placed next to the Joker. We patiently waited for Batman to come and rescue his beloved, but neither Ivy nor, I was able to predict just how quickly he would find us. Ivy waited on a catwalk above the entrance, when Batman rushed in, she had her vines wrap around him and force him onto his own gurney. The vines lifted him up over the tiled floor and hung him upside down. I quickly unfastened his utility belt, and his gloves. The three archetypes, the three figures of Gotham's decline all lined up like tin soldiers, waiting to be picked off one by one. I set my sights on the Bat, sure he'd been a pain, but of these three, he was the least annoying. Ivy and I circled him; I injected a large dose of my toxin and waited as the venom surged through his veins. He let out a loud cry as the undiluted poison rapidly coursed its way to his heart. Ivy's eyes twinkled as she watched her enemy die in waves of pain and agony. Not able to wait any longer, she slipped a polished fingernail under his cowl and pulled it back over his head. Pitch black hair replaced the intimidating cowl, the contorted face of Bruce Wayne came into view as the façade of the Dark Knight fell away. We watched as Bruce's eyes fluttered closed, Ivy picked up my hammer and smashed away at his head. Blood splashed on her face, as Bruce's lifeless body crumpled to the floor. The conscious Selina screamed in anguish as she surveyed the horrific scene, and her lover's corpse twisted on the floor. I turned my gaze to the now hysterical Selina, I giggled to myself as I watched the psychotic woman feel the sting of loss and betrayal that she had inflicted upon me so readily. I crossed the room, careful to slide my shoes in Bruce's blood. Scarlet footprints led their way to Selina's whimpering form. I pulled her close, brought her lips to mine, and bit down. Blood pooled against her red lipstick, it trickled down her skintight suit and snaked down the rest of her body. I pulled away, taking a piece of her lip with me. I threw my head back and let out a high, cold laugh. Selina's eyes welled with tears of pain and fear, her body relaxed as she accepted that these were going to be her last moments on Earth. I slid around her, retrieved a knife from my ankle and slid it across her neck. Blood flowed freely as her head fell limp against her pale, exposed chest. Her snow-white skin now stained crimson. I pulled her mask off and released her from the binds of the Catwoman, and allowed her to die as plain, old Selina Kyle.

Finally, my eyes met that of the slowly stirring Joker. His eyes fluttered open as he saw the carnage of the room. Ivy was holding Bruce's cowl like a trophy, Selina's lifeless corpse remained slumped and mangled on her table. A wicked smile stretched across Mr. J's face. His eyes widened, sparkled and shimmered with both fear and excitement. He tried to struggle free, but jammed the concentrated dose of the toxin, deeper in to his arm. I circled him like a shark stalking its prey. Joker struggled to speak, I pulled his lips down and allowed him to communicate.

"Well done, Harley. You've exceeded at what even I couldn't accomplish. You truly are my greatest masterpiece."

"Masterpiece? You think this was art, no puddin, this was good old fashioned revenge. I wanted you to witness your greatest failure, before your creation got her vengeance on you. Almost poetic, isn't it?"

"You can't deny that it was I alone that put that smile on your face."  
"That's right, allow me to return the favor." Mr. J's eyes widened further, filled entirely with fear as I slid my knife along the outside of his mouth and cut deep. Blood squirted against the blade as I sliced off his distinguished, disgusting grin. My arm muffled his pained screams. I jammed my elbow into his windpipe, and my blade deeper into his face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ivy flinch. The violence was becoming a bit too great, even for her. I pulled away and sheathed my knife in my boot. Joker howled in pain, but his voice was muffled by the blood flowing rapidly down his throat.

"You were right, Mr. J. You can really put a smile on my face." I said as I picked up and put the remains of his lips firmly on my own, and kissed the open wound. Tears flowed as readily as the blood as I pulled away. With one flash of the feelings that drew me to him in the first place, I picked up my revolver from the table beside me and emptied all but two bullets into his chest. Four holes oozed with his final moments, and like the Bat and the Cat before him, Mr. J slipped away.

I turned to Ivy, who looked greener than normal, and aimed my pistol. Without a word, I fired a single shot between her eyes. She fell to the floor, instantly dead. I closed my eyes and pressed the barrel against my temple and…nothing. I opened my eyes and looked at the horror all around me, and realized that with the heroes gone, and the two deadliest criminals taking a dirt nap, I could become Queen of the Criminal Underworld. No one would question the woman that single handedly dispatched of the Batman, Catwoman, Joker and Poison Ivy. I would be the most feared criminal that Gotham had ever seen. And with that thought, I put the gun down, and left. I felt a surge of glee as I walked out of Axis Chemicals, and let out a laugh, a laugh that would ring through the ears of terrified Gothamites for years. No more would Harley Quinn just be the girlfriend of the Joker, she would be the name whispered behind closed doors, the ruler of the most depraved city on Earth. Dear readers, say hello to the new, the improved Ms. Harley freaking Quinn!


End file.
